Our Strange Duet
by Kelly Tolkien
Summary: Christine comes back but will Erik take her back after all that she did to him? Includes Meg and Madame Giry material and Fop bashing. Mostly EC
1. Chapter 1

**Awakening**

**Well guys. If you haven't heard of me, I'm Kelly. Fan Fiction to me is the greatest thing on earth, second only of course to Gerry Butler drools and her head hits the keyboard, jerking her from her daydream. This is not my first Fan Fic, I have written many, the majority of them finished, the ones which aren't are currently being neglected for this one sigh. Who can really blame me? This is however my first Phantom of the Opera Fic so go easy on me. Still trying to decide whether to make this a one-shot or full fic. WARNING: Fop (Raoul) bashing present. **

**Quote of the Week: Billy Connelly: **_There was a For Sale sign sitting up outside a house. And it said on it: For Sale: Full set of Encyclopaedia Dictionaries, unneeded because wife knows everything! _

**Well enough ramblings now the story:**

Cold she remembered being so cold. Like she had been carved out of ice. Freezing tendrils of shivering turmoil creeping through her mind, entwining around her body, squeezing, refusing to release her, slowly getting tighter. Snow sprinkled with drops of crimson. Like the night sky only backwards. The droplets of blood winking and glittering in the moonlight. Blood. Had it been hers? Raoul's? Eric's? Above all she feared the last most. What would she do without her Angel of Music to guide her?

What had happened that was so shrouded in mystery by her mind. May be she didn't want to remember… But the thought of constant ignorance chided her into forcing her brain to awaken and begin remembering.

As she slowly came to, and her senses started returning, she found that she had the most God Awful headache. It was like there were millions of needles being pushed into her right temple, and the discovery of thinking made it worse came the hard way. Although she had been cold before, now she was very warm. Almost too warm, but deep down inside her, her instincts told her that the way she was now was where she wanted to be so she stopped the attempt to pull away from whatever the heat was radiating from. The once freezing tendrils had now turned into warmth wrapping around her, almost like arms.

It took a few more seconds for Christine's strangely slowed brain to work out that they actually were arms.

She let a soft moan escape her dark luscious lips. She slowly felt the arms drawing away from her. She didn't want them to for some unknown reason to her, and after they had gone there was a feeling of cold and emptiness.

Then without warning it felt as though the millions of needles in her temple had been pushed in another inch. She tried to pull away but a hand gently but forcefully at the same time kept it where it was. The pain lingered for a moment, but then was replaced by a feeling of coolness as the pain ebbed away.

Her eyelids felt glued together, but she fought them open none the less. At the beginning everything was just a blurry collage of colours, but this soon focused and brought a clear picture to her after a few well placed blinks.

It took Christine a while to register what exactly it was that she was seeing…Erik. Looking down at her with concerned light green eyes. The ones that she had lost herself in so many times. One half of his face was still covered with the trademark white mask.

"Christine?" he asked with concern filling his voice. "Are you alright?" he said, pulling a stray strand of hair away from her face tenderly.

She nodded not even wanting to know what it felt like to speak. He smiled a concerned smile and stroked her hair again.

He was propped up on one elbow to her right side. They were in a bed. Obviously the one under the Opera Populaire. She still couldn't remember what had happened but Erik she, she took had jumped in beside her to try to warm her up. It had worked a charm.

She snuggled closer to him, and he lay back down so she could get comfortable. She rolled over onto her side and put an arm over his chest, resting her head in the crook of his neck.

He looked down at her. He had lost her. So many months ago. It seemed like she was gone forever. He had tried to forget about her, but everywhere he looked, especially under the Opera Populaire, something reminded him of her. Even the cavernous walls seemed to echo her name.

The bed covers and the air constantly held her scent. The mirrors seemed to have her reflection burned onto the glass. The water seemed to create waves that resembled her face.

He found that it was hard to move around his own home without constantly being reminded of her in some macabre way. He found the easiest way to live was to lie in the middle of the floor, the only thing that didn't remind him of Christine in some way, and stare at the ceiling.

He spent a lot of his time there. He rarely went near the organ that now sat in the corner, covered in a thin layer of dust and cobwebs.

Stray bits of his many compositions randomly lay on the floor or floated about the room on the gentle breeze from the underground lake. His eyes were dry and he no longer had any tears to shed.

But now she was back. Just like that. He had saved her. As he lay there, he recounted the tale in his head:

In the twilight the Cemetery looked even more eerie than usual. The silent tombstones and sculpted Angels were bathed in the silvery moonlight. It gave off a gloomy atmosphere, cold and monumental. 

_There was a slight breeze that night. Not cold but enough to send a slight chill through your bones. The air was filled with the sent of turned earth, and the sky was clear with a rare cloud floating solitarily below the stars._

_The dew-covered grass was soft as his boots fell quietly on the ground. He heard shouts of anger and pleads for mercy ringing through the air. At first he had been simply puzzled._

_He had left the Opera Populaire to try to get away from Christine and he thought that some fresh air might help him think of where to move. He had to leave that hellhole filled with memories that he didn't want to remember._

_Normally he was the only one out at this time of night, when the moon was high in the sky the majority of the French Population were lying in bed in deep, vivid, dreams helped into their heads by the wine they had consumed earlier that night._

_He quickened his pace to see what the commotion was. As he rounded a particularly large tombstone, he saw two silhouettes in the moonlight. One small and thin frame, obviously belonging to a woman and the other a slightly broader and taller form, belonging to a man._

_The two people were fighting. Anyone could tell. They might as well have been having it in the middle of Paris, because no matter how remote they were, they were shouting so loud they could have been heard reasonably far away. The man was being very boisterous-the fight was apparently about something rather important._

_The man was grabbing and screaming at the girl. Eric was still too far away to be able to make out exactly what they were saying, but it was obvious that he felt very passionately about it. Even from this distance Eric could tell that the man's words were a little slurred. Drunk. That never ended well._

_Eric got a little closer so that he could find out just what the two were fighting about. He crept up in his ghostly silent way and placed himself behind another tombstone, which were plentiful since he was in a graveyard._

_He still could not see the pair's faces but now he could hear them perfectly. Their voices carrying on the slight breeze. The woman was not happy._

"_LET ME GO. PLEASE, LET ME GO. YOU'RE HURTING ME" she was sobbing loudly but the words were clear enough._

"_NO! YOU BELONG TO ME. YOU SAID I DO! YOUR CHOICE, YOUR FATE, YOUR PROMISE. I LOVE YOU!" the man shouted back equally as passionate. He was almost blinded by grief. He was holding the girl tightly by the arm, not allowing her to get away._

"_IT WAS A MISTAKE. I DON'T LOVE YOU! I NEVER DID AND THIS WON'T MAKE ME LOVE YOU!" she screamed, her voice going high pitched and hoarse with the shouting._

_It was apparent the girl needed help. But Eric was no superhero. He wasn't there to save lives. He came out to get some peace and quiet, not bump in on some random argument between some random young couple. He wasn't going to go dashing off risking his life for someone he didn't know. That only happened in books. And this wasn't a book._

_But yet the voice of the pair seemed somehow familiar. He just couldn't place where he had heard that voice from before. As he thought back to it now he found it ironic that he couldn't remember the voice that he couldn't seem to forget…_

_The man had vibes coming off him and Eric could feel them from where he was standing this wouldn't end well…_

_The man grabbed her and threw her down on the ground. They were standing on the top of a steep hill now, at the bottom of which, there was a wide glassy lake. The man jumped on top of her and began shaking her screaming: "HOW COULD YOU LEAD ME TO BELIEVE YOU LOVED ME? WHEN YOU DIDN'T? WHEN YOU LOVED HIM. THAT MONSTER!"_

_This was beginning to seem familiar to Eric now. He could almost slap himself now he had been so slow at realising what was happening._

_Then the girl shouted and everything came together. "LET GO. YOU'RE NOT THE MAN I FELL IN LOVE WITH. YOU'VE CHANGED RAOUL, FOR THE WORST!"_

_CHRISTINE! It hit Eric like a piano. He jumped out from behind the gravestone just in time to see Raoul backhanding Christine across the face. He felt anger stirring up inside him. He ran towards the drunken FOP! And dragged him off his Angel._

_He saw her roll down the hill; she had been knocked unconscious by the force of Raoul's blow and could do nothing to save herself. Erik had tried to run after her but Raoul grabbed him round the throat and pulled him back._

Erik placed his hand around his throat where there were still red marks from Raoul's attack.

_Raoul squeezed without mercy. Tightening his grip. Erik was helpless. Then he remembered Christine rolling down the hill. He flung his fist behind him and felt it connect with Raoul's skull. _

_The Fop fell backward allowing Erik to run after Christine, he was halfway down the hill when she hit the surface of the lake and fell in. He flung of his cloak and his jacket (left wearing the shirt that he had worn for the Point of No Return) and dived into the water head- first._

_He saw Christine her face deathly pale already. He swan as fast as he could and grabbed her. Then he swam up to the surface as fast as he could and over to the edge._

_He pushed Christine up onto the bank and then had felt a hand pressing down so that he was underwater again. He hadn't had the chance to take a breath and so had very little time. But he wasn't going to let the Fop kill him._

_So he reached up and grabbed the arm, and twisted it backward. It quickly retreated and he swam up to the surface far enough away from the bank so Raoul couldn't harm him._

_He reached down to his belt and pulled out his Punjab lasso. Raoul ran._

Christine stirred slightly. It had been a few hours since she had fallen asleep. Erik looked down at her. He still couldn't decide what to do. She was awake and he didn't know how he was going to force her to leave. He still loved her but he would never admit it to her face.

He shivered slightly as she slid her hand down to his stomach. He wasn't used to so much contact. Her hands slid over his ribs gently and then the pressure increased as she pulled herself closer.

A sharp intake of breath on Erik's part woke her up fully. She looked at him questioningly. He didn't make eye contact with her, his eyes wandered around the room.

She pushed again another sharp intake of breath and a pained expression on the uncovered side of his face, made her sit up. She looked down at his ribs. They did look slightly odd. She rubbed her hands over them gently and then over her own.

The patterns were different. Drastically so. Erik's ribs were strange; some were higher than others were. She looked at him. He said nothing, still not making eye contact. He looked a little shifty.

She moved her hand over and checked the other side. Still, some were at odd angles and heights.

She put pressure on them and judging from the pained expression that graced Erik's face once again she finally asked.

"What's wrong with your ribs?" she asked looking at him with a concerned look.

"Nothing. They have been like that ever since I can remember," he said with a small shrug.

"Well they shouldn't be like that," she said rubbing her hands over them again. "Do remember how it happened?"

Flashes of Erik's childhood came back to him, unwelcome into his already confused and full mind. Christine saw the look that came into his beautiful, green eyes. He was remembering something. Then he snapped out of it.

"No. I don't. Too far back," he said shaking his head in a very convincing way that it was obvious he had spent his life in the Opera house watching people act. But Christine knew him well enough to know that it wasn't true.

"Yes you do you just don't want to tell me. Come on, can't you trust your Angel?" she asked in a pleading voice.

"Yes," he said with a sigh. "I can trust her. But there are some things that even Angels shouldn't know about. Trust me you don't want to know. And I don't want you to."

"Please my Angel. I want to know everything about you," she said with a smile.

"Why," he asked. "Because I love you and I'm going to live with you aren't I?"

Erik looked confused. Then he shook his head. "Oh no, Vicomtess. You made your choice. And you didn't chose me."

Christine looked hurt. "But. I made a mistake. You can't possibly think that I am going to go back to that. To the man who didn't care that I was rolling to my death. I love you and I see that now," she said seriously.

"Too late. You're married. Now you have to live with your decision. And what did you think that I would welcome you back with open arms?" saying this to the love of his life pained him greatly. The only thing he really wanted was to welcome her back with open arms. Seeing the expression of pure sadness in her eyes stung him deeply, but he would be her toy again.

She gave him a look that said yes. He shook his head and closed his eyes.

"What? But I thought you loved me?" she said tears filling her eyes.

"Yes, Christine I did. But you left me. You denied me and betrayed me. I refuse to be the fall back guy because you marriage has gone to hell. Go back to the Vicomte," he said sitting up

Christine sniffed and let a soft sob escape her lips. She nodded in understanding. "You just can't take it that I picked him over you. Can you?" she said with a little conviction.

He looked at her anger etching his face. "I refuse to let myself become obsessed with you again. I won't be your toy," he still was obsessed with her though. And there was nothing that he could do about it try as he might.

"Toy. Is that what you think I saw you as. I picked Raoul because you scared me. I was frightened of you. Can you really blame me?" she said the tears now running freely down her face. "You killed people without a thought," she said.

"Because of you! You were driving me mad. And can you blame me?" he said getting very angry. He was beginning to hate her now, but at the same time love was there.

"I didn't force you to kill people. You had a choice as well as me. And you made the wrong one too," her voice was getting louder now.

"Why aren't you scared of me now. If you ran away from me once because you were frightened then why did you come back?" he said raising his eyebrows.

"Because I had nowhere else to go and I still loved you so much."

She went to get out of the bed and walk away, but Erik, after this last confession, grabbed her arm, his resolve had disintegrated. She turned around, the tears still streaming down her face and the pain and hurt evident in her eyes.

She looked at him and he looked back at her. Straight into her red rimmed eyes. Her lower lip was quivering slightly. It broke his heart again. If he did this to her anymore it would not be able to mend.

He pulled her into a deep passionate kiss. He put his hands on her neck and then moved one round and tangled into her hair. She rubbed her hands over his smooth jawbone gently with love.

Eventually both had to pull away for air. Christine looked at him. There were new tears in her eyes, but judging by the beautiful; smile that pasted itself over her lips, they were tears of joy.

She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace that she had longed for, for too many months and the whole way through their argument. Bliss. She never wanted to leave this man again.

She pulled back and smiled at him. Erik fell in love with her all over again. She sniffed and rubbed her eyes. Then looked at him again. The man that she wanted to send the rest of her life with if she could.

It was only now that she noticed that he was still wearing the trademark mask over the right side of his face. She swallowed, remembering the last time that she had done this. She reached up slowly and rubbed her hand down the white mask.

Then slowly she pulled it away. When his whole face was finally uncovered he jerked his head away so that she couldn't see the right side of his face. She shook her head and reached out grabbing his chin gently and turning his face back towards her.

She reached up to touch the scarred skin. He tried to pull away again but she held his head firmly.

"I told. _This face holds no horror for me now," _she sang like she had several months ago. It was only after she had sang it that she remembered what she had sung after it, and quickly wished she hadn't said it. She made up for it now though;

"_It's in your soul that true beauty really lies," _she said and leaned forward and kissed his scarred face. She rubbed both hands down from his forehead, then over his cheeks and stopped to rest them on his neck.

Erik's eyes fluttered closed with the love-filled touch. The passion seemed to radiate from her fingers.

He loved this woman but would he take her back? He thought that he had already decided that. Although her words of song were supposed to comfort, they might have just condemned their love. It brought back the memory of that night that neither wanted to remember.

"_It's in your soul that the true distortion lies,"_ had been the proper second line. When she had sung it that night she had meant it. He had to decide…

**Duh duh duhn! A cliffie sort of! So it is only the first chapter and the story is only getting warmed up. Hey what are you doing here listening to my lame excuses for my awful writing go review? And as I have heard before flames will only be used to roast marshmallows…**


	2. Past the Point of No Return

**Past the Point of No Return**

_**Rae-Anne: **Thank you so much! I never really liked Raoul at all. Then I found the word Fop and immediately thought of him. Your review kicked my writer's block out the window! Thank you and remember the review button is calling you…_

_**Brittanypiercey: **Thanks! I liked Christine at the start but then she was mean and now I don't. You will, I hope like what I am planning then. I'm not positive how this story will end but I know what the middle is going to be. I was going to stop at a certain part of this chapter but your review made me go a bit further._

It was like trying to decide whether to burn or freeze to death. If he chose to send her away and back to the Vicomte, they would probably both have a terrible life and if he chose to keep her here there was always the risk of her breaking his heart again.

As he looked down at the women running her hand through the water at the edge of the lake as he sat by the large, now clean, organ, he wanted with all his heart to pick the latter. But his brain wanted to send her away. He couldn't choose which one to listen to.

He had changed a lot since she had left. He was designing buildings and houses for a considerable fee. He also had many pictures in the nearby art gallery under the simple name "Erik". They could live very comfortably. They could buy a large house in the country with a few trusted servants and live happily.

But would Christine be happy without her high social circle and status? Just as a simple person with a bit of money. Erik, if he had asked Christine this question, would have found that there was nothing she wanted more than to not have a status, but he didn't.

Lately, because he had gotten a lot more sociable, Madame Giry, and sometimes Meg came down to check how he was and if he wanted anything sent to the gallery or some post to be sent.

Meg had gotten quite partial to him lately and saw him as a bit of a father figure. He always made her laugh and his voice made her fall to pieces. Some times he even sang her to sleep when she couldn't fall into restful slumber and would talk to her if she had a problem. All she ever talked about was him. He was also giving her singing lessons the same way that he had given Christine except without the hiding in the shadows.

Her mother didn't have a problem with this however. She, although she would never admit it, had always loved him deeply, from the day she had rescued him from the gypsy circus. She hated leaving him and could never resist giving him a goodbye hug every time she left.

This all worked out well and everyone was happy. The Opera Populaire was being rebuilt and Madame Giry was constantly trying to convince Eric to perform on the stage as he had the most wonderful voice. It was all happy at least until Christine had come into the picture.

Christine got up from the side of the lake and walked over to him. He leaned back and she sat on his lap facing him, smiling.

There was a silence then; "What?" Erik asked slightly worried about what she might be thinking of.

Christine smiled. "Did you know that they are rebuilding the Opera House?" she said resting her arms on his shoulders, bringing their faces very close.

"Since I live under it I would like to think so," he said raising one eyebrow, which made her giggle.

"Have you ever thought of being part of the Opera's that will start again soon when the Populaire is finished?"

A voice from behind Christine spoke; "Yes. I have suggested it many times before, but he just shook his head and looked at his feet. And he wasn't looking for scuff marks either," Christine spun around nearly falling off Erik's lap.

"MADAME GIRY! AND MEG?" she ran towards them and gave each of them a hug beaming.

"Christine?" Meg asked incredulously. "What are you doing here? Not that I'm complaining of course I'm just surprised."

"Well. Never mind, I'll tell you later," Christine said turning around. She looked at Erik who had gotten up from beside the organ and was walking towards the small group of women.

Since Madame Giry was the only one that knew that Christine and Meg and her self all loved Erik even if it was in different ways, she was the only one who had a certain, happy thought.

Three young women, who all loved him, now surrounded Erik. For once he had people who wanted to be with him with him. Madame Giry didn't know much about Erik's childhood before the Gypsy Circus. She didn't know about the thoughts that plagued his mind every night.

The memories that reigned and filled his dreams. She didn't know that the time that Christine had kissed him so many months ago, had been the first kiss that he had ever had, from anyone, including his mother.

(A/N) It's a fact that for Erik's fourth birthday he asked for a kiss from his mother, and as far as my knowledge goes (I'm only reading the book now) she didn't give it to him. If I'm wrong please correct me.

Meg ran forward and threw her arms around Erik. Her new father figure hugged her back and smiled at her mother. Meg gave a last squeeze, a little to tight for Erik's broken ribs and pulled away.

Erik, Christine thought disguised the gasp of pain well with a sigh. Madame Giry followed suit, except of course she did it in a more dignified way.

"So Christine. Where is Raoul," Meg said puzzled at the lack of Raoul.

"Hopefully in the lake," Erik muttered walking away. Madame Giry watched his back as he went over to a desk and began shuffling through papers sitting on the desk.

"What does he mean?" asked Meg. They could both tell, because these two French women were not stupid, that there was something going on here of the most appalling nature.

Christine beckoned them to sit down. They grabbed a few random chairs sitting around the room, and sat in front of Christine devoting their full attention to her. And Christine told them. She told them about everything. At the beginning Erik listened because he did not know exactly how the argument had come to pass.

_It turned out that Raoul had gotten rather fond of the old ale in his first few months with Christine. He began going to the local bar more and more often, and working his way around the town if you know what I mean._

_They had had many arguments, but the one that Erik had stumbled upon had been the worst yet. Christine then went on to tell them of the fight and the lake and Erik saving her._

"Now I owe him my life and my voice," she said finishing her tale with a dramatic ending.

"You don't owe me anything Christine," he said. Over the time that she had been telling her story, Erik had been thinking and had finally come to a decision.

Madame Giry could sense something coming on, and grabbed Meg. "I just remembered, I left the horse outside and I didn't tie it up. Come Meg and help me," she said walking away.

But Meg pulled away. "It is only a horse Mother. Surely you can tie it up yourself?" she said.

"Yes Meg but what if old Achilles has run off? I will need help catching him. Come now," she said pulling Meg away and towards the exit.

"What was that all about?" Christine asked. Erik sighed. Madame Giry could obviously read his mind like a book.

"You do not owe me anything because you are about to repay me by getting out of my life. Where is your house Christine?" Erik asked. He was standing beside the organ and running his fingers over a few keys that dust still covered.

"What do you mean? It's here. I live here. With you," she said. She was very confused now.

"Listen Vicomtess. I saved your life and kept you safe for a while. Now I must take you back to your husband," he said looking up at her. He met her gaze with unfaltering eyes. She was forced to look away in the end.

"But I thought I was staying here. You don't expect me to go back to that thing? I love you," she said almost pleading.

"Look we've been through this. You are his and he is yours. You made your choice, and you can't change your mind whenever you find that you might have made the wrong one. How can you guarantee that you wont decide that you were better off with Raoul after all?" Erik said. All his emotions had been building up inside him for the last three or four months and now they were all being let loose and he couldn't stop them.

"I can't. But don't you trust me?" she said he voice getting higher. "No, I don't" Erik replied simply.

"Now where do you live. Madame Giry will take you back I am sure."

Christine was holding back the tears that threatened to empty over her cheeks again. She wouldn't cry. Not this time, this time she would fight. In these times you died young. If there was someone you loved you went for it, risking everything.

"Listen, I'm sorry okay? I'm sorry for what I've done to you. I'm sorry that I hurt you. But I want to make up for it now. I want to spend my life with you."

"Well I don't," Erik said. "Madame Giry will still be outside, go" he said pointing at the exit.

"I'll walk," she said defiantly and ran out wanting to be out of his sight so that his piercing eyes could not make her feel even guiltier.

Madame Giry and Meg saw Christine run out of the burnt Opera Populaire and around the corner before they could even register what had happened. Meg went to go down to Erik again but the Ballet teacher grabbed her and told her to go home.

Erik watched Christine disappear into the same darkness that had loved him for his whole life. He just prayed that she would be okay. Then the full flow of emotion and realisation of what he had done dawned on him.

He fell to his knees and put his head in his hands, vicious sobs racking his body. Madame Giry stepped quietly out of the shadows to stand by his side. She knelt down beside him and put her arms around him. He leant back into her soft and gentle embrace…

Madame Giry, she had stayed with Erik all night. She loved him so much but she would never tell. Especially Erik, but she was finding it hard to keep her emotions pent up.

It was like she was suffocating to death. Right beside the man that she loved and had protected and saved and she couldn't tell him anything about how she felt.

Well after all, she had never told anyone about how she felt. She had always kept a calm and cool exterior. Her days as a ballet teacher had taught her that discipline was the key to achieving anything. She hoped that if she followed this rule, then that her love for the man would go away. She had been hoping now for too many years.

As she sat beside the broken man, she wanted to tell him everything. She felt that she needed to tell him everything that she knew and felt. She needed him so much. And even though he was right beside her in her arms, he was miles away.

It was hard to stay sane. You know that feeling that you get when you want to say something but you are afraid of the reaction or that the person will freak and say no? That was what Giry was feeling now. Drowning. Trying to slowly build up the courage.

When Erik eventually stopped crying, his eyes where red rimmed and seemed like they were dry and had no more tears to cry.

"It was wrong. I shouldn't have sent her away. Raoul, he could do anything to her," he said through gasping for breath.

Madame Giry shook her head. She agreed with Erik's decision for more than one reason. "No. You made the right choice. After what she done to you, I think that you handled that very well. Trust me I know how you feel," because the truth was that she felt the same way.

She held his arm as he got to his feet. He was now looking down on Madame Giry. Even though he was so much taller than she was, he felt so small. And he looked so helpless. His big, green eyes, looking on her like she was the one thing that he needed now in the whole world. It was a good feeling but painful at the same time.

She took a step towards him and threw her arms around him. He melted into her embrace again. Madame Giry saw that this was the man that she had spent her life with and that she wanted to spend the rest of it with. But he loved Christine. Well, did he? He had after all just sent her away. But that was for their own good, she thought.

She pulled back but kept her arms resting on his shoulders. She moved her hand up to the unmasked side of his face and wiped away a stray tear and brushed back a few strands of his blonde hair. She thought his blonde hair suited him.

Before she knew what she was doing her face moved closer to his. She couldn't stop herself. It was like her heart was controlling her instead of her brain. She couldn't stop her self and in a way she didn't really want to. The hard façade on the outside faded as she moved closer to his lips.

Her lips were about to touch his, but then he pulled away. Realisation hit her. What she was really doing. He had just had his heart broken and she was trying to kiss him. Madness.

She pulled away apologising. Put he put his finger to her lips to silence her.

"I understand. You should have said something. I know what it is like to love someone and trying to hold it in. I can see it in your eyes. I have for a long time. Next time just tell me. But I don't think I'm ready-"

Madame Giry nodded her head in understanding. He finished "Maybe later. But not now," she threw he arms around him. She should have known. It was Erik after all. He knew everything…

**I'm really sorry that it is so short but I thought that that would be a good place to end. Also I will post once a week from now on…**

**O.G**


	3. Second Time Lucky?

Second Time Lucky 

"No it was stupid. It was wrong. I shouldn't have sent her back there. He's dangerous, I-" Erik was cut off by Madame Giry.

"You did the right thing. After all, look what she did to you, I could never forgive something like that," she said understandingly.

"Yes, but I should have forgiven her. She could get hurt it was selfish and-and," he sighed, not being able to find the right words to describe his mistake.

He sat down on a chair heavily, that was beside the organ and rested his head in his hands. He stayed like that for a while but then sat up straight and ran his hand through his mop of blonde hair.

Giry walked over to him and put her hand on his shoulder.

Christine knew that it was suicide to go back but where else had she to go? Nowhere was the answer. She stood outside the front gates of the de Changey manor trying to build up the courage to go in. The Raoul that she had fallen in love with had died long ago.

She knew that, that part of Raoul, the one she fallen in love with, would never come back. She knew this deep down but she found it hard to accept. Erik was the only thing she had left.

To tell the truth for the last couple of months he had filled her thoughts and that is why he was the first person she had gone to. She had, she thought hoped for a lot.

She heard a crash come from the mansion and a man screaming. She knew that it was Raoul and she knew that she couldn't go back. Erik… But she had to.

She walked up the driveway through the deep snow and through the doorway. Raoul had seen her coming through the window. He was standing waiting at the bottom of the stairs. His hair was a tad messy to say the least.

"How dare you even set one foot on these grounds after what you have just done?" his voice was raspy and there was a mad gleam in his eyes when they fell upon her. She shivered under his withering stare.

He began to move towards her with his fist raised. She stepped back out of the house. She turned and ran she could hear his footsteps in the snow behind her. She ran faster, she felt his arms around her and before she could blink she was on the ground.

His fist connected with her face, and this time Erik wasn't there to save her. He hit her just below her eye and she knew that it would bruise in plain sight.

She raised her leg and kicked him in the crotch hard and he fell backwards off her. She took this opportunity and jumped up and ran.

Wandering child so lost so helpless, yearning for my guidance. 

_**Angel or father, friend or Phantom? Who is it there staring?**_

_Have you forgotten your Angel?_

Too long you've wandered in winter far from my fathering gaze… Wildly my mind beats against you, You resist yet your soul obeys 

She remembered the song. In the cemetery he had fought for her. She loved him that was the thing. She made a decision. She would try once more. She was risking a lot.

Erik wasn't expecting much, but the thing that he least expected was Christine to come back down the passageway. Madame Giry had left.

Christine was out of breath and she stumbled. He rushed forward quickly and caught her before she hit the ground. She lay back in his arms panting heavily. His eyes glanced over her and then fell on her eye. It must have already been bruising.

He reached up and gently ran his fingers over the place where she had been hit. She flinched even at his gentle touch. He looked at her, meeting her eyes. He stayed like that for what seemed like forever, and then he closed his eyes and lowered his head with a sigh. Looks like it was second time lucky…

He stood up with her in his arms and carried her back over to the swan bed. He put her down gently and pulled some stray stands of her hair away from her face. He knew that he had made a mistake and now the only thing that he could do to make it up to Christine was forgiving her. In a way he was glad. But he felt that he didn't deserve her after what he had done to her.

"I'm sorry Erik, but if you can find it in your heart to forgive me-" Christine said quietly but before she could finish Erik put his finger to her red lips.

"Listen. I'll forgive you if you forgive me. Don't say there is nothing to forgive. Think back. There's a hell of a lot."

"We're both forgiven then…" He nodded. She smiled and threw her arms around him. But what popped into Erik's head next made him feel sick. What about Madame Giry?

He hoped half-heartedly that she would understand, and he knew, deep down that she would say that she did but she wouldn't ever forgive him. He wasn't sure whether he could live with that. After all she had saved him from the Gypsy Circus.

He looked down at the now helpless and homeless woman in his arms. Someone was going to get hurt and he didn't really have the heart to chose. He wouldn't say anything for a while, until Christine was healthy again he would keep it quiet but after that, he would have to tell her.

Over the next few days Christine didn't let Erik out of her sight. On the first night, he was going to give her the bed and he was about to walk out of the room to go sleep somewhere else, which, if he had gotten out of the room he would have found out that it had been the floor, but he didn't.

He had just checked that she was okay and had turned around to leave, when she grabbed his hand. She had a look on her face that said it all- "Please don't leave me," and he didn't.

She pulled him onto the bed and he lay down beside her. She turned onto her side and rested her head on his chest like she had when he had saved her. Both were thinking the same thing. That it was the best position in the world.

That next morning, Christine woke up before Erik. She propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at him. All the events of the Opera Populaire played over in her mind once more. She ran her hand down the unmasked side of his face.

She longed to take it off. She wanted to tell him that she didn't care. Slowly resolve took her and she traced down the side of the mask delicately. Slowly Erik's hand raised up and grabbed hers.

His eyes opened and looked up her.

_**Those pleading eyes held all the sadness of the world.**_

Rolled over so she was straddling his stomach. She leaned forward so that her face was inches from his.

"I don't care," she said smiling tenderly, "To me you are perfect, and I love you. All of you," she said.

She reached up to take off the mask but Erik flinched away. She put her other hand on the unmasked side of his face and leaned forward to take it off again. He turned his head to the left so she couldn't see the side of his face.

She grabbed his head with her hands and turned it to face her head on. Then she leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. Then leant forward and rested her head on his chest again…

Erik had forgotten about Madame Giry and was just… Happy for once…

Okay I'm so sorry that it is so short but it is better than nothing … 


	4. French Kiss

French Kiss 

**For the last few chapters I forgot to do a disclaimer: Well I don't own anything, not even Erik, not even Raoul, not that I want to. Well maybe I do so I could kill him, but I don't so that's that settled…**

A/N: By the way in this chapter Erik is wearing the same shirt and trousers as he wore for Don Juan at the end of the film. Yummmmmmm

Christine and Erik stayed like that for a while, neither wanting to move. He rubbed his hand up and down her back in a loving way, and Christine in return wrapped her arms around him. He smiled slightly at her childlike gesture but said nothing. She sighed contentedly.

"Erik?" she asked tilting her head back so she could look at him.

"Yes?" he replied quietly, the love emanating from that one simple word. Christine rested her head in the crook of his neck, slightly loath to ask the question.

"What about Raoul?" she said hesitantly. There was a silence, but she knew that Erik was just thinking. She knew that he wasn't angry because his pulse stayed the same, which, she could feel. Her head happened to be resting in a position where she could feel it. It was slow and calm like the rising and falling of his chest.

It was at this point that she noticed something. Just the way that his shirt was sitting, she could see a lot of his chest. Which, in her book wasn't such a bad thing, as she found now. But not only was it extremely muscled, it was also scarred. Erik finally answered.

"I don't think that he will bother us for a while," he said reassuringly.

"That's good and I believe you… But what happened this time?" She was slightly worried about saying this because she remembered the last time that she had asked about his past…

"When, what are you talking about now," he said raising one eyebrow, the way he did sometimes because he knew that it would make her smile.

"Your chest." She pulled the shirt away to reveal the majority of his chest. There were scars all over it. She guessed that they got there the same way that his ribs got broken.

She rubbed her hands over the scars. Erik tried to suppress a shiver at her touch but didn't succeed. She smiled. He grabbed her hand and it sent shivers up her spine. It was funny the effect that they could have on each other.

It must have been over a long period of time and not all at once that he got these scars because if he had gotten them all at once he would probably have bled to death.

"It's a long story," he said trying to avoid the subject, but this time she wouldn't let him wriggle out of it.

"Well I'm not going anywhere," she could tell that 'well I am' was on his lips but she didn't give him a chance and straddled his stomach again saying, "And neither are you," with a smile.

He put his hands gently on her hips and sighed. But no he wouldn't distract her either with his loving touch.

She grabbed both of his arms and pinned then down on either side of them, flat against the bed. He couldn't really move she hoped. The fact was that he could but, 1# He didn't want to and 2# He would hurt her if he tried which he didn't want to do.

So in a way going by number two, he couldn't move.

"Spill," she said. Raising her eyebrows.

"Ask Madame Giry. She will give you a better account of it," he said calmly. And he knew that she would because he only remembered flashes of it. Some nights- most nights he had dreams about and some times the dreams would bring back things that he hadn't remembered before, most of the time he didn't want to remember.

"Madame Giry? Why Madame Giry." She asked.

"Because she was there."

"Was it something to do with your childhood?" she asked genuinely interested. He nodded.

"You know. I've never met anyone interested in anything that involves me. Why are you so interested?" he asked curious.

"Because I love you," Christine said and lent forward and kissed him. Then she pulled back and leaned forward again to kiss him. He sat up and put his arms around her, which, she was no longer holding down.

Then without warning she gave him a French kiss. She could tell he was surprised. He held it for a few minutes and then pulled away. The look on his face made Christine burst out laughing.

She pushed him down on his back again, and pinned his arms down as she had before. "You've lived in France all these years and not once had a French kiss?"

He shook his head slowly. She leaned forward and gave him another one. This time he joined in. Christine decided that he must have a natural talent for kissing.

"You must have a natural talent for kissing," she said when she pulled away to breathe. He smiled.

She lay down on top of him and rested her head on his scarred chest. She heard his heartbeat, which was no longer steady…

He loved her, but he would have to tell her sometime about him and Madame Giry. He wasn't going to drop Madame Giry like Christine had dropped him. No, not this time…

**Sorry it's so short and that I've been gone so long but… things happen and your tastes change, but I hope this satisfies you all for while:D**


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